The One Where Chandler is Wrongly Accused
by Jana
Summary: Chander is accused of a crime he didn't commit.
1. 1

**_The One Where Chandler is Wrongly Accused_**

By: Jana~

Chapter One

*****~*****

--Monica greeted her husband, Chandler as he walked through the door at the end of his workday, unaware that this was **not** a typical workday. Unaware that everything in their lives was about to change dramatically.

"Hi hunny." Monica's attention remained on dinner preparations as Chandler entered their apartment.

"Hi." His reply was distant, causing Monica to give him her full attention; it was then that she realized, there were five men following him, two of them uniformed officers.

"What's going on?" she asked, concerned.

"I was fired today," Chandler answered, his usual cheerful expression replaced by a dull, frustrated one. "These guys are from Federal Customs Department." He immediately walked into the bedroom and retrieved his laptop computer, handing it to a plain clothed officer of the federal government.

"Is this the only computer you own?" the agent asked.

"Yes," came Chandler's reply, after he planted a brief kiss on his wife's wrinkled forehead.

"What is all this?" Monica asked again, his first reply creating more questions than it answered. She was more confused by the minute as the five strangers in her house started busying themselves with her husband's computer, using her dining table as a workspace.

"They think I downloaded 'kiddie-porn'," Chandler answered his wife's question, running his hand through his hair, his day obviously hell by the way he looked. "Doug fired me as soon as these gentlemen started questioning me," he went on to explain. "Guilty till proven innocent I guess more their adage than the standard 'innocent till proven guilty'."

"How can they do that? How can they think this?"

"Some investigation led back to my name somehow. My computer user name." He loosened his tie and pulled it off. "When they couldn't find anything on my work computer, they decided the 'kiddie-porn' **must** be on my home computer."

"This is ridiculous!" she snapped, directed at the men invading her home. "My husband is **not** the kind of man to do this!"

"This is procedure, ma'am," one agent explained. "We have to investigate. With your cooperation, we can finish and be out of your lives much sooner."

"It's better to just let them look and see that there's nothing on there, Mon. I have nothing to hide."

"Hey, Mon, whatever you're cooking, it sure smells good-" Joey's compliment stopped mid-sentence when he saw all the commotion. "What's going on?"

"These guys are here to check my computer for 'kiddie-porn', Joe. They think I'm a pedophile or something."

"What?" Joey's voice expressed his utter shock. "Why do they think that?!"

"My name showed up in an investigation somehow. Oh, and, I lost my job."

Joey gasped, "What?!"

"Yep. Doug just up and fired me on the spot, as soon as the words 'child pornography' hit the air."

"How can he do that?!"

Chandler shrugged. "I'll have to find out later if they're legally allowed to, but right now, I'm trying to prove my innocence to these people." He gestured to the group busy dissecting his computer by means of fancy forensics-type equipment.

"This is unreal!" Joey exclaimed.

"Say that another billion times and you'll be about where I'm at now," Chandler muttered.

"Ma'am," an agent approached Monica, "We need to ask you some questions."

She looked to Chandler before replying. "Alright."

The agent gestured towards the hall, and Monica followed as he led.

--"You are Monica Geller-Bing, yes?"

She nodded, hugging herself as the questions began.

"Do you ever use your husband's computer?"

"Sometimes."

"Have you ever seen 'questionable' images while on his computer?"

"You mean pictures of naked children? No. Absolutely not."

"Have you ever seen **any** pornography?"

She winced. "Well, yeah."

"I'm going to show you some images, and I want you to tell me if any of them look familiar, alright?"

She nodded.

The pictures he went on to show her were very graphic, and so horrible, she couldn't bare to look at them.

"I don't want to look at these," she announced, finally turning away. "My husband is **not** guilty of looking at these pictures!"

"Does your husband use this user name?" The agent showed her the documents that listed the specifics of the crime, her husband's user name on the paper.

"Yes. That is his user name. But, isn't it possible that someone **else** used the user name somehow? Hacked in or whatever computer people do?"

"No," was his unyielding, definite reply.

--More questions were asked, but Monica felt like she was almost detached from the situation, the whole scene seeming like something out of 'Law & Order'.

--When she rejoined Chandler and Joey inside, the four remaining agents were packing up.

"Are they done?" Monica asked.

"For now," Chandler sighed. "They're taking the computer with them."

"Why?"

"Too many pictures to look through here," he answered with a roll of his eyes, beyond annoyed by everything taking place.

"Mr. Bing," the main agent addressed him. "Does anyone else have access to your computer besides you and your wife?"

Chandler briefly glanced at Joey, almost out of his peripheral vision, then shook his head firmly. "No. No one." 

He knew Joey had used his computer before, many times before in fact, but he wasn't going to drag his best friend into this nightmare. Joey wasn't guilty of doing this anymore than he was.

"How long will you need the computer for?" Monica asked the agent in charge.

"We will try to have it back to you by Friday. Or by Monday at the latest," the man replied, handing over a receipt of sorts, for Chandler and Monica's records.

And the nightmare began.

*****

--Chandler lay in bed, his mind reeling. In just a few hour's time, his entire life had changed.

"We'll be ok… financially," Monica muttered as she looked through bank books and clicked on a calculator. "For a little while, anyway."

"You know I didn't do this, right?" he asked; the question had plagued his mind ever since he saw the horrified look on her face, following the explanation of what had happened, and the nature of the investigation was announced.

"Of course I know that! I know you didn't do anything wrong! And they will too. They will look at everything on the computer and they'll see that there are none of those pictures, or any pictures like that." She snuggled up to him supportively. "It'll be ok, ok?"

He nodded weakly. "Yeah…"

She frowned as she saw how tense and upset he was, and she kissed his jaw-line as she rubbed his arm, trying to get him to relax a little.

"Mon." He whispered her name. "I'm not feeling very much in the mood right now." He looked at her sadly, "Is that ok?"

She nodded. "Yeah. That's ok."

He held her tight, she his lifeline to sanity as he forced his eyes closed, desperate for sleep to take the pain of the day away.

*****

--Chandler entered Monica's restaurant kitchen, unshaven, his clothes wrinkled, looking unkempt.

"Did you call the agents?" Monica asked as she continued sautéing whatever dish she was in the middle of creating.

He nodded. "They said they weren't done looking at it."

She scoffed. "They've had it a week longer than they said they were going to! What's the hold up?"

Shrugging, he mumbled, "They just said they still needed to look at it."

"This is getting ridiculous! They keep lying to us! Telling us they'll be done on such-and-such day, then pushing it back! Not returning our calls! I think it's time we called an attorney."

"I did," he told her. "He said that until I'm actually charged, there's little that can be done."

"Hogwash! There's gotta be something that can be done! They lied to us, like, a dozen times!"

"Guess they're allowed to, what with them being federal agents and all." He leaned against the kitchen island counter. "Besides, the lawyer said that they have, like, 45 days to keep potential evidence and file charges."

"So, they can just lie to us, take our property from us, and that means nothing?!"

"Pretty much."

"Man! I want to turn the tables on them! Sue **them** or something!"

He shook his head. "You can't fight City Hall." 

This usually bright, funny, sarcastic man had been dulled by the events of late, and it was starting to show, concerning everyone who knew him.

"They can't get away with this!" Monica announced insistently.

His gaze dropped to his shoes. "Yes. They can."

"We'll fight this if they charge you," she assured him; he just nodded numbly.

*****

--"That was the agent in charge," Monica informed Chandler after hanging up the phone. "He said we need to come down to their office."

"Why?" Chandler asked, his eyes squinting skeptically.

"He said everything was ok," she prefaced, "They just needed to talk to us about a few things." She smiled, "Maybe they're ready to give us back the computer!"

"You think?" he asked, smiling for the first time in a long time.

"I asked them if anything was wrong, they said 'no'. I bet they're all done with all this now."

"Ok, so, when do we go?"

"Tomorrow," she told him as she hugged him tight; finally, a light at the end of the tunnel. Finally, she could see a glimpse of the man she married, returning by the potential of good news.

Good news… how wrong they were.

*****

--They needed to talk to Chandler first, they'd said, and asked Monica to stay in the small room. The only way out keyed doors she didn't know the key combination for. Worry crept into her mind, but she tried to force it away, hugging herself as she glanced around the room and at the small table that contained 3 magazines, all sports related.

Hours went by. Hours. Two. Three. Four. She was starting to grow more and more anxious as the clock ticked on. What was happening? Where was Chandler? Was he under arrest? Was she? Why was she locked in this room? If she knocked on a door, would someone answer? Was she free to leave if she asked to? Was Chandler?

Questions and possible scenarios swam in her brain, causing her to become near frantic for answers. Finally, the door opened, two agents and Chandler standing there.

"What's going on?" she asked urgently.

"I'll tell you later," Chandler replied as the two agents walked away momentarily.

"I don't want to wait till later!" she snipped quietly. "What happened? What took so long?"

"Later," he said again, through gritted teeth.

He'd never done that before, and she was torn between being afraid by his snarl and mad at him for it.

"I need to know what's going on Chandler! I've been worried!"

"I said later. **Later**!" he snapped.

When the agents returned, she asked them, "What's going on? Are we getting our computer back?"

"Not yet," the agent replied. "There is still an investigation going on."

"So, you're saying you found something on the computer?"

"We're not at liberty to discuss that."

"You had him in there for four hours discussing nothing? The weather? Sports teams?"

"Mon," Chandler whispered, taking her hand in his.

"If charges are filed-"

"**If**?!" Monica asked, interrupting the agent. "He did nothing wrong!"

"Questionable images were found on his computer," the agent informed. "If no federal charges are filed, then the state can still file charges."

"This is a nightmare!" Monica snapped. "You have to justify your time, so you're just gonna accuse an innocent man and destroy lives! Right?!"

"Ok, c'mon." Chandler put his arm around his wife and entered the elevator that had arrived seconds earlier, being held open by the second, silent agent.

"I hope you sleep well!" she barked at the two men as the doors slid closed, obscuring them from view.

"What the hell went on in there?!" she asked as the elevator arrived at the lobby floor.

"Wait till we get home, ok? Please?" he begged, his voice sounding strained like she had never heard it before.

Concerned for him, she relented. "Alright."

*****

--They entered their apartment, Monica having kept her questions bottled up, for her husband's sake, until that moment.

"Talk. What happened?"

He sighed. "They found pictures, but not the pictures they were originally looking for."

"What pictures did they find?"

"Mostly what they showed me were banner ads. You know, from pop-up advertisements? Some weren't even complete! I tried to point that out to them, but they said that because the images were 'broken' and because they couldn't find the original images they were searching for, that I must have 'evidence destroying software'!"

"What?!"

"That's right! So, because they can't find the pictures, I must have a way of destroying evidence! No **way** I can be innocent! Oh, **no**!"

"This is insane! Did you tell them that this is insane?!"

"Not in so many words. I told them to search for such a program, that they would find none."

"I can't believe this!" Monica huffed as she hung up her jacket.

"Oh, wait. It gets better," he snipped sarcastically. "They made me sign this piece of paper that stated that everything they find on the computer I take full responsibility for! And if I **didn't** sign it, they said they were gonna drag **you** in for questioning!"

"So what! Let 'em! I'd've given them a piece of my mind!"

"No way! I'm not having them do to you what they did to me."

"What did they do to you?"

"It was like an interrogation out of a 'B-rated' spy movie or something! The only thing missing was the light in my eyes!"

"Did they read you your Miranda rights?"

"Eventually. But not at first. Then they made me sign something that said that they **did** read me my rights. Which they hadn't until **way** later!"

"What kind of questions did they ask you? Besides the whole 'evidence destroying' stuff?"

"They showed me picture after picture **after** picture after **picture**. Does she look under 18? Does she? Does she? Does she look like she **might** be? Do you think **anyone** might think she is under 18? **Over** and **over**."

"What did **you** say?"

"I told them no!"

"Did they look under 18?"

"I don't know," he said with a tired groan. "Not really. They looked like early 20's maybe." He plopped down on the couch. "Seeing naked women under those circumstances, it was enough to make me wanna go gay."

"Don't even joke!" She dropped down beside him. "Now what do we do?"

"Now we wait and see if they charge me with something."

She let out an irritated sigh. "Ok. Let's look at this logically," she began. "Most of the pictures were banner ads, right?"

"Yeah."

"And of those, a lot were blurry or incomplete. Like when they started to pop up, you clicked the 'x'."

"Right."

"And, of the pictures that were **not** banner ads, some were blurry and/or incomplete?"

"Yeah."

"So, we're talking about a handful of pictures that may or may **not** contain individuals under the age of 18."

"Right. **They** didn't even know! They actually told me that the women in the pictures, they'd never seen them before in any investigations and they couldn't even be sure if they were minors or not!"

"So, we have a handful of pictures where **no** **one** really **knows** the ages of the women in them."

He just shrugged.

"I don't see how they can charge you for anything. I mean, c'mon! A few dozen pictures of naked women who, if they're **not** 18, they sure look it! Right?"

"Right! None of them looked like children. None of them!"

"I- I just don't see how they can charge you with anything then."

"I hope you're right."

"What happens next?"

"We wait."

"Yeah, but can they-? I mean, are they just gonna show up and drag you off in handcuffs? Should they decide to arrest you?"

"I have no idea."

*****

--Chandler walked in the door after having gotten the mail, handing everything to Monica but one letter, which he opened immediately.

"What's that?" she asked as she thumbed through the junk mail.

"It's from the District Attorney's Office," he replied, reading over the letter he'd plucked from the envelope.

"What does it say?" she asked softly, trying not to let her anxiety show through in her tone.

"They're charging me with a crime."

"What?!" She ripped the letter from his hand and started to speed-read through it.

"A misdemeanor-" she mumbled as she read aloud. "Possessing material that depicts sexual acts- material **known** to have contained under age persons."

"This is **insane**!" she exclaimed.

"It's beyond that," he stated in defeat. "It passed insane a long time ago."

She grabbed the phone book out from under the counter. "I'm calling a lawyer."

*****

--"Ok," Monica started as she hung up the phone. "The lawyer was actually pretty helpful!"

"Ok," Chandler muttered.

"He said that it's actually a good thing that it's only a misdemeanor. Usually, if the Federal Government is doing the initial investigation, the charges that follow are felony charges. But because it's been knocked down to a state misdemeanor charge, that means the evidence didn't support a felony charge."

"The evidence doesn't support **any** charges."

"I know," she assured him. "He said that the court date mentioned in the letter is an arraignment. That's where you tell the judge you're not guilty. He said it was **possible** that at that time, they could take you into custody to await trial."

Abruptly, he looked up at her, his expression showing horror.

"**But**!" she went on quickly, "He said that because it's a misdemeanor, and because you have no prior record, they probably would **not** put you in jail."

"How comforting," he snipped sarcastically. "We thought they would **probably****not** file charges, yet, here we are."

"Chandler, hunny, I know you're frustrated, but, we have to stay on top of this, ok?"

He nodded as he sighed.

"The first thing we focus on, is the arraignment. After that… Well, we'll cross that bridge when we come to it."

**TO BE CONTINUED…**

Please review! And MTLBYAKY


	2. 2

**_The One Where Chandler is Wrongly Accused_**

By: Jana~

Chapter Two

*****~*****

--Monica had never been so scared. She considered herself an intelligent, strong woman, but as she and Chandler waited for the locked doors to open, she felt like neither. A thousand scenarios flitted through her mind; possible scenarios to how it would all turn out. Chandler being sent to jail was the most upsetting.

--If they wanted him to post bail, because he was jobless, would they have the money to survive after dropping a huge chunk of their savings on a bail-bond?

She looked around at the other people waiting in the cold morning breeze, wondering briefly if any of them were worried about the process ahead of them. She looked at her watch - seven thirty. The letter said to be at the courthouse at seven thirty.

"They'll probably be opening the doors soon," she muttered to Chandler; he just nodded in response.

When the heavy-set Jamaican woman stepped outside the doors, her clothes indicating that she was police or security, the growing crowd looked to her. Those who had been sitting stood, and Monica took Chandler's hand in hers.

"When you enter," the guard began the speech she obviously had given countless times, "Ladies, put your purses on the conveyer belt and empty your pockets into one of the trays provided. Men, empty **all** your pockets into one of the trays provided, then **step aside** so that others behind you can approach the conveyer. When I tell you, walk through the metal detectors and be prepared to be searched or patted down."

"If you do not wish to be searched or patted down, you may as well leave now. If you have belongings you do not wish to be scanned, leave them in your car or take them home, or leave them with someone else to hold. If you enter this building, it is understood that you agree to have your belongings scanned. If you do not want them scanned, do not enter this building. Once through the metal detectors, you need to check the calendar for your name."

"If your name is on the calendar: if you are C1, you are to take a seat and wait to be called. If you are C2, you are to take a seat and wait to be called. If you are C3, you are to stand in a line at the far wall and wait to be called. If your name is not on the calendar, you need to stand in line on the red tape and talk to a clerk. The clerk will tell you what section you are to wait in. You **must** check the calendar **before** you ask any questions. I will **not** answer any questions if you haven't looked at the calendar."

When the guard gestured for Monica to enter, she quickly did what she was instructed to do, placing her purse and the contents of her pockets on the conveyer belt and stepping aside; Chandler followed suit.

Once through the metal detectors, the guard ran a metal-detecting wand around and about her.

"Lift your pant legs so I can see your ankles," the guard instructed, and Monica complied. "K." The woman gestured for her to step aside, then gestured for Chandler to approach.

She did the same basic procedure to Chandler, then gestured for him to step aside as well.

After collecting their belongings off the conveyer belt, they headed for the calendar.

"Bing, Chandler - C2," Monica announced in a quiet voice, tapping the paper-on-cork-board, and he nodded.

"So, now we sit." Chandler pointed to a bench seat, and they both sat awkwardly as they waited.

--Monica watched as people began to fill the semi-large room, anxiety over what was to come causing her to fidget and bite her lip. She looked over at Chandler, his head hung low, in a suit for the first time since he'd been fired.

He looked tired, and not just because he hadn't slept the night before. She felt him leave the bed at 1 a.m., 3 a.m., and 5 a.m., then, finally, was up for good at six. Her sleep wasn't the most restful of sleeps, but she did manage to get about 3 hours. Her husband however, got less than two.

--She placed her hand on his knee and he looked up at her touch.

"How you doin?"

He shrugged. "Ok. I keep flip-flopping. One minute, I think everything'll be ok, then, I think the worst."

She nodded and rubbed his leg. "I know. Me too," she admitted.

She tried to be strong for him, or at least appear strong, but it was hard. He knew her too well, and knew she was just as stressed, worried, and uneasy as he was.

--The wait was long. They waited outside before the Jamaican guard opened the door at 7:30 for nearly a half-hour, then they waited from 7:30 till nine, before the gray-haired bailiff finally opened the courtroom and called for them to enter.

"If you are appearing before the judge, sit in the front row. If you are not, sit anywhere else."

Monica kissed Chandler softly before releasing his hand. "I love you." She mouthed the words inaudibly, and he forced a tiny smile before walking to the front and taking a seat.

Monica sat in the back, nervously chewing on her lips and hair as she waited for situation to unfold before her.

"I will be handing out to you," the bailiff explained, "A piece of paper that advises you of your rights. Initial in the boxes at the left and sign the bottom. If you are wishing to plead guilty, let me know and I will fill out the back of the form. You will need to then sign at the bottom."

She watched as Chandler took the form and read it over, initialing and signing where he was supposed to, leaving the back 'guilty-plead' portion untouched.

The judge seemed nice, and in a good mood… _'Better than a mean judge in a bad mood,'_ Monica thought to herself.

--The judge called Chandler first.

"Mr. Bing, good morning."

"Good morning," he returned politely.

"Do you understand the charges against you?"

"Yes ma'am."

"And how do you wish to plead at this time?"

"Not guilty."

She nodded. "Your pre-trial date is set for 2 weeks from today. Can you afford an attorney?"

"No ma'am."

"Are you employed?"

"No, your honor."

"How do you support yourself?"

"My wife's income, at the moment," he admitted with embarrassment, turning and pointing to Monica, who was sitting on the edge of her seat in the back row of the courtroom.

"A public defender will be provided to you at no cost. However, if your financial situation changes, you may need to pay some fees at a later time."

"Ok."

"You are released on 'OR' until your pre-trial date. Have a seat sir and the bailiff will provide you with some paperwork to fill out."

Monica let out a breath she didn't realize she had been keeping as the judge went on to the next case without pause. She literally felt her heart slow from the race it had begun as she realized, her husband wasn't going to jail. At least, not before trial.

--They left the courthouse and headed immediately home, their lack of sleep and relief in the knowledge that they wouldn't be apart while awaiting trial suddenly causing them to be extremely tired.

They quickly explained the events of the morning to their friends, then excused themselves as they went into their room, peeled off their clothes, and fell into bed. They were asleep within mere minutes, snuggled together, physically and mentally exhausted, but optimistic about the events to come.

**TO BE CONTINUED**…

Please review! And MTLBYAKY


	3. 3

**_The One Where Chandler is Wrongly Accused_**

By: Jana~

Chapter Three

*****

--It took forever for the public defender to finally arrive. The meeting was set for eight a.m., but she didn't arrive until after eleven. Chandler and Monica sat across from her, anxious as they watched her sift through paperwork, reading through his case file.

"I have to ask," she spoke up, "Why did you let them into your home?"

Chandler was shocked by the question. "They were Federal Agents! I thought I **had to let them in!"**

"Did they have a warrant?"

"An intent to investigate," Monica answered, "Is what they called it."

"Then you didn't have to talk to them."

"We didn't know that," Chandler sighed.

"Why did you sign this paper taking responsibility for images found on the computer?" the lawyer asked next.

"They told me to," Chandler replied. "They said if I didn't, they would bring in Monica, and all my friends, and interrogate them."

She shook her head, "This is actually typical, unfortunately." She sifted through more papers. "Because of the nature of the pictures, I do not have them here in this file. I have to go over to the police department to look at them."

"Ok," Chandler nodded.

"I won't know much till I can look at them, and I need to speak with a computer expert who can explain how these images could have found their way onto your computer. Other than by having you download them."

"They weren't even downloaded pictures!" Monica interjected. "They were in the web archive!"

The lawyer shook her head, "That's why I need to speak with a computer expert. I have no idea what that means."

"It means," Chandler explained, "They were supposedly viewed online, but never downloaded onto the actual computer."

"And most of the pictures they had were either banner ads or broken images. Like, as soon as they started to load, the 'x' was clicked," Monica added.

"Alright. I'll find out about that as well. And I'll find out where your computer is and look at it, too."

"How long is all this going to take?" Monica asked.

"We just want this to be over with," Chandler added.

"Well, unfortunately, it's not going to be over with quickly," the lawyer informed.

"What, are we talking years?" Monica asked.

The lawyer chuckled solemnly, "I sure hope not. But, realistically, you're looking at several months."

Monica put her face in her hands and sighed.

"So, what happens now?" Chandler asked as he placed his hand on his wife's knee supportively.

"Well," the lawyer replied, "We try to get enough counter evidence to prove the DA doesn't have a case. But, that's going to take a while." She grabbed a calendar and thumbed through it. "Let's have you come back in 6 weeks."

"What happens in 6 weeks?" Monica asked.

"Well, by then, hopefully we'll have enough evidence to have the case dismissed."

"Before it goes to trial?" Chandler asked to confirm.

The lawyer nodded. "Right."

"What if they don't dismiss it?"

"Then you go to trial."

Monica sighed and shook her head, her eyes downcast. "This is a nightmare."

"What happens if we do go to trial and I'm found guilty?"

"The maximum is one year, but you probably wouldn't get the maximum. You would probably get probation or at the worst, a few months on a weekend jail sentence."

Monica scowled, "Weekend jail?"

"Yeah," the lawyer explained, "You go to jail only on the weekends to serve your sentence."

Monica shook her head to help clear her thoughts. "Knowing what you know, having **not been able to see the evidence yet, what are his chances of being found not guilty?"**

"Well, I can't really guess on that, because it's up to a jury of your peers, but, the burden of proof is on them. The DA. They have to **prove** that Chandler went to these web sites with the intent of finding, downloading, and owning pictures he **knew** were of individuals under the age of 18."

"So, odds are in his favor?" Monica was desperate for some idea of what to expect.

"Well, in a way, but there's still no way of knowing for sure. And I can't promise you the outcome you're looking for, I can only promise to do my best to counter their claims and fight for you."

*****

--"She sounds like she knows what she's doing," Monica stated as she and Chandler walked through the door of their apartment.

He shrugged, "Yeah, I guess."

"You don't think so?"

"No, it's not that. It's just…"

"Just, what?"

"I don't want any of this to be happening, Mon." He sighed as he dropped his stressed body onto a diningroom chair. "I want my old life back."

"I know," she murmured softly as she rubbed his shoulders, kneading the knots that had formed in his neck and shoulder muscles. "We'll get through this though, Chandler. I know it's hard, but, try to think positive."

"I am… trying," he muttered as he enjoyed his wife's massage, briefly thinking how much better she was at it since Phoebe taught her how.

Monica wrapped her arms around his shoulders, her cheek against his. "Come to bed, sweetie. Let me help you feel better. If just for a little while."

He turned to face her, a slight smile on his face, "I love you."

"I know," she smiled, "I love you too." She kissed his lips softly. "Come to bed?"

He nodded, kissing her quick before standing and gathering her into his arms. "I'm sorry I've been so, anti-social, lately."

"You've had a lot on your mind," she whispered in his ear, "I understand. And I would take it all away if I could."

"I know you would."

"All the stress and worry and frustration, but, I can't," she added.

"I know. Just you being by my side is enough," he uttered sincerely. "Even though I don't always show how much your support means to me."

"I know how much it means to you." She kissed him tenderly, her fingers winding through his soft hair. She pulled back and smiled, "Let me make love to you," she purred. "Let me take away your concerns… even if only for a few hours."

"A few hours?" he grinned, "Sounds like a wonderful way to spend an evening."

She took his hand, kissed it, then led the way to their room.

**TO BE CONTINUED…**

Ok, so, I revamped and I'm re-posting this story, cause I'm going to be continuing it, and because of the excessive usage of my good friend, Mr. Ellipses!

I also wanted to add… this is based on my actual, real life nightmare. My husband was fired from his job for a different reason, **before** the feds came knocking on our door three days later, on that fateful day in October of 2001, but everything else actually happened as I have written it. Except for the changes needed to stay true to the characters, even the dialog is close to actual conversations had between myself, my husband, my family and friends, and the various agents, police officers, court employees and the public defenders defending my husband.

Our nightmare finally ended for us, 1 year and 10 months after it began, and the events leading up to, and including the final ruling will be in this story in the coming chapters.

Please review, and MTLBYAKY


	4. 4

The One Where Chandler Is Wrongly Accused

By: Jana~

Chapter Four

****

--"You're nervous, aren't you?"

Monica tore her gaze from her wringing hands and looked up at her husband. "Aren't you?"

"I was," Chandler admitted, "But, now, I'm actually optimistic. I mean, if this motion goes through, if the judge sees that they took the computer unlawfully, then all their **supposed** evidence is inadmissible, and this whole **thing** goes away!"

Nodding, she acknowledged him, but she was far from as hopeful as he. Since their first meeting with the Public Defender, they had been assigned a new lawyer three times. Having to go over their story each time, for the new person. The District Attorney refused to hand over evidence, or move the case forward, asking for a continuation every time they went to court, which was every four weeks. It seemed like the case would last forever.

Fourteen months later, since the day the feds invaded their lives, and the nightmare continued.

At least he wasn't in jail, but that wasn't their only concern. Money was getting tight, since Monica was the only one of them working, because every time Chandler would apply for a job, the background check would show that he had a case pending, with the charge of 'in possession of child pornography' clearly stated for all to see. So much for innocent till proven guilty.

Now they had a shot at having the case dismissed, and the nightmare end, but, even with Chandler's optimism, Monica couldn't muster the same outlook. Everything that had happened till that point, seemed to indicate that this would simply not end easily for them. Or quickly.

***

--"And while I sympathize with you both," the judge continued his ruling, "The fact of the matter remains that, even though you weren't aware that you **could turn the officers and agents away, you ****didn't. You allowed them into your home. Handed them the computer to look at. Signed the receipt when they took it. You might not have known that you had the right to say no, but **they** didn't know that. For all they knew, you knew your rights, but were ****still willing to cooperate."**

"I find for the state in this motion. The defendant will report back here in four weeks from today," the judge instructed, then raised his gavel.

"Your honor?" the DA called out. "Could we make that, in six weeks? Four weeks from today is two days before Christmas."

The judge checked his calendar, then muttered in acknowledgement. "Ah, ok, then, the defendant will need to be back here six weeks from today. Court is adjourned." With that he banged his gavel, all rising as he left the room.

"I don't know how he could say that," Monica whispered to Chandler's lawyer. "It wasn't just cause we didn't **know** we could slam the door in their faces! They actually **told** us they **needed** to come in! **Needed to see the computer. Waved that paper, that, intent to investigate around like it was their permission slip!"**

"They told us if we **didn't** sign the receipt, that we wouldn't be able to get our computer back once they were finished with it!" Chandler added.

"I know," the lawyer agreed sympathetically. "These motions **rarely go the way you want, but, it was worth a try."**

"What happens now?" Monica asked; frustration clearly edged her tone.

"Go home. Try to have a nice holiday. Then, we start all over again in six weeks."

"And go another eight or nine months with extension after extension?" she asked.

With a sigh, the lawyer nodded. "Quite possibly."

Monica groaned as she turned away. "And the nightmare continues."

*****

--"But, I need you there with me."

Monica sighed, her arm over her face as she lay staring at the ceiling. "I know, and I'm **with you, I'm just not, ****with you. Ya'know?" Off his silence, she added, "I just can't deal with **one more** continuation. It's a waste of my time. It's a waste of ****your time, but, you ****have to go. I don't."**

"I can't do this alone," Chandler stated in a whisper, and Monica's guilt soared.

"You're **not doing this ****alone," she told him. "You're not ****doing anything when you **go**! Every time, it's just another, 'be back in four weeks'! When it comes time for the trial, or something important, **of course** I'll go, but it's just not necessary for me to go ****every single time, take off work and lose out on that money, just to hear them repeat those words,**** again!"**

"I know you're frustrated. **I'm** frustrated, too. I'm so **damn** frustrated, I can't even see straight! I just can't understand, how another human being could **do** this! Destroy a man's life, his livelihood, his name and reputation, simply cause they can't admit they made a mistake!"

She rolled over, snuggling against his side, an attempt to console him, though nothing she did, or **could** do would. More than anything, she wished she knew what to do, to bring back the man she loved. Once the nightmare was over, would he return? It couldn't last forever, could it? 

It already felt like an eternity, even though it had only been sixteen months.

**Only**?

***

--"Monica, it's Chandler." He actually sounded like he was in a good mood, which was a rarity on 'court day'.

Monica handed the whisk to her assistant chef, then gave the phone call her full attention. "What's going on?"

"The DA, offered me a plea bargain."

She scowled. "What kind of plea bargain?"

"I don't have all the details yet," he explained. "I have to come back in four weeks."

"Of course you do," she muttered with a roll of her eyes. It seemed that was all the DA was capable of arranging.

"But, it looks like, the charge would be reduced to 'child endangerment'."

"You didn't put any children in danger!"

"I know that. It's just so they can save face, and not drop the case, or take it to trial and risk losing."

"They **will** lose," she insisted, upset. "Don't take a plea! We'll just, go to trial! They know they have no case! That's why they're making the offer!"

"I know that, but it's not as simple as that. Scott says that I could **still** run the risk of being found guilty, by a jury. It's the whole, 'better lock him up - better safe rather than sorry' outlook. **And** the DA has basically said, **threatened**, to drag it out for another year **at least**. I can't do this for another year," he added, defeated.

"Well," she asked, her voice calm, "What would your, like, sentence, be?"

"Not sure yet. But Scott thinks that it would be something like, a fine, maybe some kind of community service, and a few years probation."

"Would you have to do that, registering as a sex offender thing?"

"No."

"And, you want to take the plea?" she asked, to see if he was certain.

"I don't know," he admitted. "I just want it to be over with."

"Do you have to give an answer today? Before we know all the details?"

"No. I just need to let him know if we're interested in taking a plea. Then he'll talk to the DA and hammer out the deal."

With a sigh, she said, "If you want to do this, then I support your decision."

"I know you do, but, do **you** think it's a good idea?"

"Well, I don't like the fact that you are saying, for the record, that you're guilty of something. But, it would be nice to just, get this over with and start putting it behind us."

"Which is pretty much where I'm at," he added.

"Ok, tell him if the deal is a good one, we would be interested in entertaining it."

"We don't have to buy it dinner first, right?"

A smile grew across her face. He actually made a joke. It had been a long time. By that alone, she knew they were making the right decision. To wait another year or longer, or even to wait **months** longer, and the Chandler she knew wouldn't survive it. Even if he was admitting guilt for something he certainly **wasn't** guilty of, if it finally closed the book on the most horrific chapter in their lives, maybe it was worth it.

"No," she answered, her smile obvious to him by her tone of voice, "We don't have to buy **it** dinner. Maybe just a drink," she added, and he laughed.

"I love you," he said softly, and she nodded, repeating the words back to him. "I'll see you at home tonight," he closed the call, hanging up the phone.

"Well?"

Chandler nodded at Scott. "Find out the details. She says we will entertain taking a plea."

***

--"They brought up the plea idea five months ago! It was **their** freaking offer! What the hell is the hold up?!"

Chandler sighed, Monica was angry. "I don't know. The one DA assistant person said she made the offer before speaking with her supervisors, and she has to clear it with them first. Or something like that. But Scott says it's just another delay tactic."

"I'm beginning to **hate** these people," she said through gritted teeth, fuming.

"Beginning to?" he asked, then took her hand away from the pot she was stirring to gain her attention. "It's moving forward, just slowly. Oh," he added, "And I have good news."

Shaking her head, as if in disbelief, she muttered, "Yeah, right."

"Scott told the judge that I have been to court faithfully, every single time, so now, I don't have to go back to court until the DA gets off his ass and actually **does** something."

As she turned back to attend to her cooking, she sighed. "Yeah, you watch, now that **that's** the case, the DA will be set to offer the plea and end this next month."

***

--"Well, you were right," Chandler said as he entered her kitchen, "The DA is officially ready to offer the plea."

Monica spun around to look at him. "You have the details?"

He nodded. "Can you take a break?"

*

--"So, basically, I plead guilty to child endangerment, which would be like, if I were to leave my child in the car while I went to the grocery store or something, I pay the $609 fine, which we can make in payments, and I don't break any laws for three years, and that's it."

"No community service? No jail?" Monica asked, and Chandler shook his head.

"Nope. Scott was even amazed how quickly they caved. Said it was a clear sign that they just **didn't** have a case."

"So, it's over?"

"After next Friday, yeah."

"One year and ten months later, and it's finally over. And you can take comfort in knowing that, their actions **proved** you weren't guilty of anything."

Chandler smiled when he nodded. "It's not complete exoneration, but at least it's over."

"Thank **God** it's over."

**THE END**

Please review! And, so you know, chapter five is a brief telling of what **actually** happened to us, if you're interested.

Thank you, and MTLBYAKY


	5. 5

**The One Where Chandler Is Wrongly Accused**…

The real story that inspired the fanfic.

By: Jana~

*****

--One week before Halloween, 2001, my husband, Richard was fired from his job at Vons (a division of Safeway), where he worked as a truck driver for almost seven years. Why? 

When my mom died, in March of that year, I didn't just lose my mom and my best friend, I lost my caretaker, and my husband took time off to fill that role. I am disabled, since 1995, when a car jumped the curb and struck me head on, while going 45MPH.

Taking time off to care for a spouse is technically covered under the Family Medical Leave Act, but his immediate supervisor was fired, and replaced with a man who, for whatever reason, disliked my husband. He claimed there was no paperwork or information on file about me being disabled, or needing a caretaker, and **retro activated** every absence my husband had since the beginning of the year, called it excessive, and fired him.

He was a member of the union, and paid his union dues faithfully every quarter… did they fight for him and get him his job back? No, they did not.

We were set to contact a lawyer and fight this unfair firing, when three days after he was fired, there was a knock at the door.

At least five uniformed officers and three plain-clothed agents stood at my door, accusing my husband of the most horrific of crimes… a crime against children. They said, back in 1999, that he downloaded 65 specific images, and that they **needed** to enter my home, they **needed** to look at every computer in our home, and that they had 'an intent to investigate'. For all I knew, this meant I had no choice but to let them in and show them what they wanted to see.

They took my children aside, asked them if they had ever been touched inappropriately, by my husband or anyone. Had they seen pornography, on the computer or anywhere in the house? When my **then** 12 year old daughter made a casual comment about Chandler from 'Friends' having porn on his computer, they freaked out and started asking who Chandler was, scaring my daughter.

She clarified that it was a fictional character, and they calmed down some, but the questions continued, and were relentless.

They showed me images that I did **not** want to see, asking me if I ever saw any of those images on our computer. They forced a paper under my nose, **while** showing me these pictures, and told me to sign it. That later came back to bite me in the ass. They hooked up forensics equipment to every computer we own, searching for anything they could use against Richard.

After finding nothing, they then informed us that they **needed** to take our computer, to search it with better, more advanced equipment. When my husband refused, they said they would be back with a court order to remove it, and if they had to do **that**, and **didn't** have Richard's cooperation, they would also cart him off to jail. I freaked. Our kids freaked. We caved.

They took three computers total, the one we owned in 1999, when the crime **supposedly** happened, my mom's computer that was in the garage, and our new computer, that we bought three months after the alleged crime. In January 2002, they returned two of our computers, and a bunch of burned CDs and floppy discs that they did **not** have permission to take. Which computer did they keep? The one that had supposedly been used to commit the alleged crime back in 1999? Nope! The **new** one. They **never** found those 65 specific images that started the investigation.

They held me and my **then** two year old son prisoner in a small room, the only way to leave was through a door that had one of those key-push locks on it. The ones where you have to punch in a number combination or the door won't open. I had no supplies with me to change his diaper, or feed him, since we weren't expecting to be there for four hours.

The scene in this fanfic about Chandler's interrogation… "They showed me picture after picture **after** picture after **picture**. Does she look under 18? Does she? Does she? Does she look like she **might** be? Do you think **anyone** might think she is under 18? **Over** and **over**."

This actually happened, almost verbatim.

They were trying to get Richard to 'confess', and say he did what they were accusing him of. They called him a pedophile. They threatened to bring in our children, and subject them to the same line of questions, and their friends. They threatened to bring me in, trying to guilt him by saying, 'in her condition, being disabled, wouldn't you want to protect her from that?'

He signed the paper, taking full responsibility for the contents of the computer, to save his family from the agents' mistreatment. They also coerced him into signing a paper, saying they had read him his rights, even though they **didn't** until almost the end of the questioning.

When we were finally allowed to leave, I went home and immediately called the public defender's office. I explained everything, and asked his opinion on what we could and/or should do. He said we couldn't do anything until he was officially charged, and that if the feds didn't want to push the case forward, the state still could.

The feds ended up dumping the case, but the state picked it up. It was dropped to a misdemeanor charge of knowing possession of images containing persons known to be under the age of 18.

We went through three public defenders before we ended up with Scott, a computer expert and dang fine attorney. After fighting for a little over a year to get the supposed evidence from the DA, Scott was finally able to tell us that what it all came down to was three questionable images, located in the web archive. They had been **supposedly** viewed online, but they were **not** downloaded onto the actual computer. 

They were of naked females, that looked like adults who were not very well-endowed, standing in a simple pose. Basically, the DA had no case. The images didn't look to be children, they weren't **on** the computer, but rather, in the web archive (which shows he wasn't trying to knowingly possess the images), and even the agents and officers in the case refused to testify, claiming they had too little knowledge of events and evidence to be a credible witness.

The motion talked about in this story actually happened. The judge said that while he believed us to be telling the truth, and sympathized with our situation, because I signed that dang paper that was shoved under my nose while I was being shown disturbing images, and being told that I **had** **to** sign it, the evidence was still admissible.

It was seven months **after** the motion, of 'be back in four weeks', before the official plea was offered, bringing the total to one year and ten months from the day the feds knocked on our door, a year and a half from when the charges were officially filed.

My husband was unemployed the entire time, because when he would apply for a job, the pending charges would show up in the background check and no one would hire him. He went into a depression, that he is still struggling to come out of, and it made him bitter about life. My children are distrustful of police and government officials. I came close to having a nervous breakdown twice, which lent to why I stopped writing for a time.

We learned that the agent in charge of all this, the one who bullied me and my family at our home, held my husband, son, and I prisoner during my husband's interrogation; the one that lied to us repeatedly about everything, from when we would get our computer back, to what our rights were, is at the hospital now, ill and dying.

We still don't have our computer back. They only **need** to keep the hard drive, returning the rest to us, but so far, they haven't. My husband is finally working again, though the money isn't quite as good as what he was getting at Vons. Still, it's enough to live on, and what with the strikes going on right now, it's probably better that he **isn't** employed by a union company anymore.

After a little more than two years, we're finally getting back on track.

Moral of the story? When Federal agents show up at your door, and they **don't** have a search warrant, simply reply with, "We don't want any of your crazy here!" and shut the door.

Thanks for reading, and MTLBYAKY


End file.
